Reyes kneeled beside me. “Sweetheart, look.”

The wounds were already beginning to heal, the skin closing at the tips of the lesions, leaving dark red trails in their wakes.

I looked at Reyes. “He’ll be okay?”

“Unfortunately.”

I laughed softly, knowing he didn’t mean it. They’d started out as enemies but had become very close. Like prizefighters who were friends outside the ring. Fair-weather friends, but friends nonetheless.

Pulling Osh to me again, I held him close, reveled in the heat of his body because that meant he was alive.

“There’ll come a point,” Garrett said from a few feet away, “where this will be considered a form of molestation. I might have to call this in.”

I looked at him. “How many beers have you had?”

He grinned and raised his current bottle of Corona in salute. “Don’t ever do that again.”

“I’m sorry, Garrett. I didn’t even think of what this might do to you.”

He shook his head. “All’s well that ends—”

“I didn’t particularly care at the time, but looking back…”

A throw pillow hit me square in the face. I giggled, almost giddy with relief that Osh would be okay. Or at least alive. He may never be the same again, but he’d live.

“We need to take him back to the apartment.”

Reyes shook his head. “I don’t want to risk anyone seeing us carrying an unconscious body into the building.”

We both turned to Garrett.

“I don’t exactly have a guest room.”

We looked at each other and nodded.

“Ready?” I asked.

We gathered him into our arms, and I was surprised at how gentle Reyes was with him. But carrying an unconscious Daeva was like carrying a limp lion made of spaghetti.

“By all means,” Garrett said. “Take my room.”

“Gawd, he’s heavy,” I said, grunting.

“You know, I could get him myself.”

“No, I got this,” I said, right as I slammed his head into the doorframe. “Shit. You think that’ll bruise?”

Reyes fought a grin and lost.

* * *

We got Osh settled in Garrett’s bed. Swopes wasn’t nearly as annoyed as he pretended to be. He was concerned. He was traumatized. Cookie was on her way over to help watch over him. We’d agreed to take shifts until he woke up.

Reyes and I took first watch as Garrett went out for sustenance.

I lay beside Osh on the bed, touching the lines that were getting lighter and lighter. Only a few gashes remained. We’d stripped him and bandaged the worst of them.

Reyes was sitting in a chair across the room, his shirt unbuttoned and open, a beer in one hand and resting on a knee. He was so fierce. So powerful. And he was just sitting there drinking a beer. Eyeing me as though trying to figure me out.

“How did you do it?”

I tucked a strand of hair behind Osh’s ear. “It’s called god glass.”

“That’s what you had in New York?”

“Party favor. Kuur brought it, but he didn’t know the rules of the game. He didn’t bring enough for everyone.”

“And how does it work? How does one trap a god, for instance?”

“They must be in a form where you can draw blood. You put one drop on the god glass, say their name, their true name, and presto. They are trapped until you decide otherwise.”

“You’ve had it for over a week?”

I cleared my throat. “Yes.”

“And you’ve known that I was a god for over a week?”

“Yes. My father … let me know. He told me you were created from one of the gods of Uzan.”

“Why would you not tell me about this?”

I closed my eyes. Lowered my head. Whispered the truth. “In case I had to use it on you.”

He went completely still. After what seemed like an eternity, he asked, “And why would you have to take such drastic measures?”

“I didn’t know how much of you was … you and how much was an evil god from a prison dimension.” The irony that he’d been in prison in both his celestial and his human forms was not lost on me. “I didn’t know if you’d be a threat to Beep or not.”

“That was good thinking.”

I looked over at him, surprised.

“I’m not worthy to be a father. I never was. It just took Satan going to the convent, possessing me, reminding me who I was, what I was, to force me to come to my senses. I am worthy of neither of you. I wouldn’t trust me, either.”